The Avengers: Defyers of Death
by I'm a Basket Case
Summary: Ten years have passed since the June Rebellion. Eponine, being the lone survivor, rose up to take her leader's place as head of the rebellion. But something happens that sends her life spirling out of control. VERY AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A.N.: This came to me during math class about a week ago. I've been working on it. I hope this intro will hook you all. If not, sorry. I just wanted to have some fun. **

**There is a lot of greek mythology in this. I'll have info about the mythology in the end note.**

**It's very AU. Fair warning. Oh this have nothing to do with Marvel.**

**Disclaimer: I'm not Hugo… Which means I own nothing.**

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**The Avengers: Defyers of Death **

**Chapter 1 Ten Years**

**Paris, France 1842**

They died ten years ago. Every last one. I lost my brother, my best friend, and my leader. They executed my leader before my very eyes. He looked right at me and nodded before the triggers were pulled. It is a message I still hold onto today. It told me to stand up and take his place, which I did. Just like he foretold. "Let the others rise to take our place until the earth is free." That was my call. My turn. My everything. I gathered my own men and resumed where the Les Amis de l'ABC left off.

The day after Enjolras died, I changed my name. Éponine was weak and innocent, just like the old me. The old me died with my leader. It burned away to ash among the ash of the fallen. I didn't mourn. No. I had something to do. I had to rise from their ashes. I took the Greek name Atalanta, the huntress. And Atalanta never mourned over death. Atalanta was the sole female to participate in activities considered only for men. She was the exception.

Just like me.

"Atalanta?" I looked up at see a small boy in the doorway to my room. I smiled and patted the space next to me on the bed. He rushed over and climbs in bed with me.

"It's okay, Iolaüs," I stroked the boy's hair as he curls against my side. Iolaüs was a nickname too. All of the boys in my group had aliases. For our protection. Iolaüs in greek mythology was the nephew of Hercules. He hunted along side Atalanta and aided his uncle on one of his labors. It's fitting for this small boy.

"What happened to your arm?" Iolaüs stared at my nub.

"I lost it a long time ago," I answered, "Now rest."

I was shot during that fateful night. I was found unconscious by a group of nuns who nursed me to health, but at a price. Infection set and they amputated my arm left arm just below the elbow. I was given a state of the art prosthetic limb. I'd made a few adjustments over the years. I can attach a few tool and weapons. I had a sword attachment that comes in handy in close range combat. A club with a spike. Then a rudimentary gripping tool. All the necessities. But the boys don't know. They know I fought, but they don't know much more.

Iolaüs slumbered throughout the night. He reminded me of my little brother, Gavroche, who died during the final battle. The thought of him made my chest tighten. He was so young and so brave.

"I'll protect you, Iolaüs," I whispered softly.

I was not maternal by nature. I had to keep order and not show weakness. The only reason I let Iolaüs sleep with me was because his brother Heracles died a few days ago. He died a heroic death.

We were surrounded by all sides. Guns pointed at my, Heracles's, and our tinker Daedalus's chests. I knew this was the end. Then I'll be with my leader and my friends and my brother again. I closed my eyes and my heart reached out to find them. I heard a bang and expected pain. It never came. A hand grasped my wrist and pulled me along. We escaped. Except for Heracles. He took the bullet made for me. My right hand sacrificed himself for me. Or the cause. He saved me. I will honor his name.

Loud pounding on my door brought me back to reality. Iolaüs woke at the loud noise with a jolt and hid behind me. The door opened and a rat like boy named Calaïs entered my room with his twin brother Zetes in toe. They both wore the same worried expressions.

"We have visitors," Calaïs stated as calmly as he could.

I rose to my feet and grabbed my gun and attach a knife to my prosthetic limb, "What do they want?"

"The want to see a girl named Éponine," Zetes's fear wasn't masked like his brother's. They lead me to the front door of our bunker. The sight I see must be impossible.

_This can't be. _

They boys around me feel my discomfort and instantly grab their weapons. I gesture for them to stand down and step forward.

_Oh here we go. _

I walk up to the young man with glaring eyes that bore into my soul.

"See you answered my call," the boy smiled slightly.

The Amis stood behind their leader. I caught their eyes and knew they didn't recognize me until Enjolras spoke.

"I did."

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**Endnote: **

**Zetes: The North Wind**

**Calaïs: The Southern Wind**

**Daedalus: Tinker who builds the labyrinth where the Minotaur is kept. His story is long but really cool. **


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Éponine will be referred to as Atalanta. I'll remind everyone at the top of each chapter. This also changed to third person. Some chapters will be in first person and I'll make note of it accordingly. **

**I don't own any of this. **

**Chapter 2 New Amis**

"Atalanta," Telemachus looks at his female leader, "who are these people? How do you know them."

"Go inside." Atalanta ordered. Her boys scurried inside without further explanation. "I suggest you do the same, Amis." Atalanta looked at her old friends. They follow her inside the maze of tunnels and caves. The way was poorly light with patches one can only make through with the touch of the cool, damp wall as guide.

"You can't be Éponine."

"Don't call me that, Joly," Atalanta snapped at the tall, spectacled young man. "It's Atalanta now. I'm the exception." She twisted off the knife attached to her arm. She then attached something that looks like an arm.

"But you can't be–" Joly attempted to continue.

"It's her, alright." Their leader said with a smooth tone.

Atalanta lead the new comers to a gathering space deep under ground. "Sit," she ordered as she shut and locked the door. The boys sat with no argument. "How are you guys here? You all are dead." She leaned against the heavy door and looked at them. They all looked just as she remembered. So young. Too young to die. Many of them are the same age as her followers.

Iolaüs peaked his head in to look at the men. One was his age. The new boy had a curly mop of dirty blond hair on his head and dressed in red. Iolaüs wondered what brought this boy to be with these men.

"The lord brought us back," Enjolras stated as he looked at Atalanta.

"God isn't that nice to those like us, Enjolras," the girl quipped.

"A different lord."

Atalanta raised her eyebrows, wanting an explanation.

"The lord of time graced us with a second chance."

"That sounds mad, Enjolras," Atalanta rested her palm on the table and leaned forward. Enjolras smirked. This girl did take his place in every way.

"Épo—I mean, Atalanta," a boy around Iolaüs' age started then corrected himself, "What's happened to you? You've changed."

"I'm following orders from my former leader," she answered. "His orders were vague, but I believe I did a good job."

"We came to join and help you," Enjolras continued.

"If you came to join me, I get to name you." Atalanta drummed her fingers and flashed a wicked smile.

Each man in the strange group shared eye contact with each other. They did not know what Atalanta spoke of. All but one. This terrible young man with well kept curly, blond hair wore a smirk. He leaned back in his seat and propped his boots up. He just watched Atalanta, taking in her ferocity and strength. The man in red closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest in sickening self pleasure. His distaste for order and law showed and Atalanta was about done with this lax behavior. It was unlike the man she once knew and admired, but at the same time so familiar. Did he oppose of her leading his group of renegades?

"Very well, Atalanta." The man stated and made a small nonchalant gesture of encouragement. "By all means. Induct us into your order."

Atalanta held her breath. That man urked her in ways too many to list.

"I know each of you more than you could imagine," Atalanta looked at all the old revolutionaries. She started around the table, her feet barely making a sound. She stopped behind a young man who even in death is drunk.

"Grantaire you are Melisseus, the titan of honey."

Grantaire made a face and opened his mouth to protest, but Atalanta already moved on to her next initiate. He was well dressed and spectacled. Atalanta knew he prized education and knowledge.

"Combeferre," the woman rested her hands on his shoulders and gave him a welcoming smile. She felt a pair of eyes bare into her but she continued on her duty. "You are Coeus, the titan of intellect."

Combeferre grinned up at the girl and smirked at the drunk whose name he deemed subpar.

"Joly," Atalanta fixed his spectacles and his collar, "We are in need of a new doctor. Will you be willing to help us?"

Joly looked to his former leader, for the answer. Enjolras nodded at his friend and turned to Atalanta. She smiled and nodded in understanding. "Thank you, Joly. Iapetus is the titan of mortality. I believe that will suit our doctor."

Atalanta knelt down next to a young boy, no older than twelve. She smiled and pressed her lips to his forehead. "I missed you, Gavroche. I missed you a lot." He has not changed since the day of the battle. The urchin took after the older boys more than he himself knew. They taught him more than she could even dream of.

The day she found out her little brother passed on, crushed her. She loved Gavroche and their sister Azelma more than anybody else. That day she swore to not let her brother die in vain. She saved Azelma and they two waited out for years. They began to accumulate orphans and young criminals into their ranks until they had enough to create chaos for the government and the police. Now ten years later, her muse was back into her arms. The one whose death created her band of rebels.

"I missed you too," Gavroche smiled at his sister. "Do I get a cool name too?"

"Of course you do, Gav." Atalanta smiled at the energetic young boy, "Lelantos seems like a good name for you."

"Who's that?" Gavroche asked with an excited grin.

"The titan of the unseen," She answered. Gavroche looked confused and his sister clarified with a smile. "Lelantos was a sneaky titan and excellent at hunting and stalking prey. If anyone is as sneaky as Lelantos, it is you."

Gavroche grinned at his name, taking pride in such a powerful title that now belonged to him. Atalanta patted his head and got another good look at him before she moved on.

Atalanta passed by the youngest student. He still had a boyish tinge to him, like he was stuck in the phase where everyone was sweet and romantic.

"Jehan," the woman stopped and played with the boy's hair. He smiled up at her with awe and joy.

"It's so good to see you, again." The poet spoke with wide eyes. "You were very brave."

"Thank you," Atalanta smiled and rested a hand on his shoulder, "I want you name to be Eros–"

"Love?" The boy wore a smile that made his eyes twinkle, "I feel so honored to be named after my muse."

Atalanta chuckled and nodded. "I thought it was a good idea too."

Her next stop was an old fan maker. He taught himself all he knew and Atalanta greatly respected him for it.

"Lovely Feuilly," She touched his cheek and he closed his eyes. "You are Prometheus. He is the craftsman titan who made man out of clay. I believe it suits you since you make fans."

"It does," the fan maker nodded, "Thank you."

"Atlas if fitting for you, Bahorel," She looked across the table at a lanky man who studied law longer than any of the others at the table, "He is the Titan of navigation and endurance."

"And Lesgle," She looked at the name next to Bahorel, "Menoetius the titan know for his clumsiness seems to be your best match."

The boys laughed at Atalanta's jest at the boy's lack of luck.

"Courfeyrac, you loyal and close friend to all." Atalanta looked at the boy on the other side of Bahorel, "You are Oceanus. The Titan on the oceans. He ties everything together. The Amis would be nothing without you."

"How is Marius?"

The questions caught Atalanta off guard. It has been a long time since she last thought of the boy. She had her duty to her boys and to the revolution. There was no time for love. Not after you lost so many.

"I don't know." She sighed. "I went into hiding after the june rebellion. I'm sure he is happy and successful." Atalanta stood to her full height and sauntered off, without explanation.

The Amis turned to Enjolras, who had yet to acquire a name from the other leader, for instruction.

"Wait here," Enjolras rose to his feet. "Don't touch anything."

He left to look for the strange leader who took his place.

**AN: Yeah. A lot of information in one chapter. Here is a list of who is who for later reference. The Amis will be referred to their new names from now on. Only with some notable exceptions. Here is the reference for all other chapters in the future. I wish I could tell you a number but I don't even know where I'm going with this. **

**Combeferre - Coeus (Intellect) **

**Grantaire - Melisseus (Honey)**

**Joly - Iapetus (Mortality)**

**Jehan - Eros (Love)**

**Gavroche - Lelantos (The unseen and hunters)**

**Bahorel - Atlas (Astronomy and endurance)**

**Courfeyrac - Oceanus (The sea... like the oceans beyond Poseidon's realm. Yeah, the big stuff)**

**Feuilly - Prometheus (The craftsman of man and other things that don't really pertain to Feuilly)**

**Lesgle - Menoetius (Raging anger. He is pretty much the titan of bad luck... because well... he does stupid shit that backfires a lot.)**


End file.
